Tristan had spent most of his day clearing out old files, which he tried to do every year (and should have done every month). The bedroom he'd taken over as an office of sorts was about half the size it once had been, thanks to all the boxes crowding against the walls, constantly threatening to collapse despite the magical support. He usually enjoyed looking through the stacks of old reports and drawings and letters, but today he'd been happy to quit early and get out of the house. He brought some of it with him into Diagon Alley in the form of a fingerpaint smudge on one of the knees of his trousers, but if he noticed it it didn't seem to bother him. He'd always been a little hopeless as far as clothes went, anyhow. If he had something more interesting to focus on - for instance, meeting up with a charming woman who harbored an appreciation for Muggle literature, the finer points of school texts and happened to be rather nice-looking - they were the least of his concerns.
He saw Lyra at once when he edged inside the shop, and threw a polite smile to the man at the counter before crossing over to her. There was really only one person he cared to talk to, at the moment. He expected he'd find it a little hard to split his attention. "Hello," he said cheerfully, taking the opposite chair. "Two days left, is it? Are you ready for them all?"